Before the First Pour

January has a way of reminding us that not all work looks productive from the outside.

Right now, the land looks much the same as it did a few months ago. No structure yet. No visible markers of what’s coming. And still, so much is happening.

This is the phase before the first pour.

Before anyone gathers, before anything takes shape in a way that photographs well.

It’s the phase of invisible work.

Most of January will be spent in conversation.

Making sketches, taking measurements, and filing paperwork.

Pavilion drawings. County requirements. Fees that feel both frustrating and necessary. The kind of work that doesn’t stir excitement, but quietly makes everything else possible.

It would be easy to rush through this part. To want something, anything, to show already. But we’ve learned that when it comes to the land, rushing usually costs more in the end.

The pavilion matters because it creates a container. It gives shape to future gatherings before we ever think about pouring beer at scale. It allows us to host, learn, and test what this place wants to become without overbuilding or overreaching too soon. It’s a foundation for people first, not production first.

Building this way requires trust. Trust in the process. Trust in timing. Trust in the land itself. The land has always been clear with us when we’ve slowed down enough to listen.

So for now, we’re holding the vision gently. Long tables. Candlelight. Shared meals. Conversations that stretch into the evening. We can see it, but we’re not forcing it.

January is for groundwork. And groundwork, while quiet, is still real work.

Before the first pour, there is intention.

Before the gathering, there is patience.

And before anything becomes visible, there is trust.